The bathtub was very small. In fact, it wasn't designed for two people to bathe together. Water splashed over the edges of the tub, trickling down the dark tiles and forming sparse little puddles that reflected chaotic shadows. Li Ling felt as if she were sitting in an overburdened little boat. The waves were too big. The small boat rocked and swayed, leaking air from all sides. A thick white fog rose from the sea's surface, obscuring the sky. In the fog, she saw a giant whale. His form was graceful and slender, emerging from the depths of the sea. He had moist, bright eyes, but his back was tightly tensed, not daring to approach her. She tried to touch him with her knee. She barely made contact before he pressed his hands against the tub and immediately retreated. Such awkwardness, as if he were very reluctant. She touched him again with her knee. Splash. Splash. The air in the bathroom was very still, making the sound of the splashing water even more startling. Every inch of movement, forward or backward, played a clear melody. She heard his breathing, slow and deep. He stared at her intently. His gaze was another signal, another language, more honest than his body. Under the water, they briefly shared the same body, their heartbeats and blood vessels connected, with no place to hide any movement. Li Ling deliberately exposed her injured leg: "Disgusting, isn't it?" He immediately said, "No." "Then why do you keep backing away?" "...I'm afraid you'll slip." His voice was hoarse, mingling with the mist, almost inaudible. But to prove himself, the young man lowered his head, cupping her incomplete leg with his hands. He let her press against his chest, his lips touching the scar on her knee, softly calling her name. A-Ling. A-Ling. Perhaps he also tentatively called out another name. In the thick fog, no one would hear, no one would correct his mistake, everything was safe. The kisses took shape, climbing upward, turning into giant bubbles, hiding wet screams and sweet dreams. No one knew how it all began. Through the narrow window, the sunlight turned into a hot lighthouse, piercing through the fog, turning it into a sheet of light. And the light would devour everything. - This was an unexpected scene of intimacy, not in the script. But they cooperated perfectly. There was no need to repeatedly confirm the camera angles; he always remembered to shield her body and knew where the kiss should stop, just enough to suggest ambiguity to the audience. But the breathing was real, the furrowed brows were real, and the sweat dripping from his temple was real. Chaotic joy, restrained pain, in the reflection of the water, everything became forbidden and unbearable. He submerged himself in the water, then reappeared. She let out a sweet scream, even knocking over the beer by her side. The beer poured into the tub, and they both became a mess, reeking of alcohol. Her hair was very wet, strands like seaweed, giving him a suffocating feeling of entanglement. She cupped his face. His kisses fell restrainedly on her neck and shoulders, but his breathing grew heavier. Her skin had a pearl-like, moist sheen. She was like a painting that couldn't be touched by hand. Now, the painting finally fell into the water. The paper got wet, dissolved. He took it into his lips and tongue. The person in the painting broke free from the paper, and he kneaded her into his body. Countless oil paints, indescribable desires and love, mixed chaotically, weaving new colors. - Zhou Jing earnestly helped A-Ling bathe. She lay in the bathtub, drowsy, still looking very fragile and easily captured. He picked her up and changed her into a clean nightgown. When she woke up, A-Ling found Zhou Jing lying at the foot of the bed, painting her toenails. She was startled, but he looked up, softly said, "You're awake," and gave her an affectionate smile, naturally kissing her ankle. This kiss, like his smile, was clean, without any additional meaning. A-Ling also smiled at him. Like all people deeply in love, they no longer needed any conversation. Just seeing the face of their lover made them want to smile, a natural joy arising in their hearts. Love itself is a kind of regression. After smiling for a while, the atmosphere became ambiguous and sticky again. Instead of letting Zhou Jing finish painting her nails properly, A-Ling kicked him playfully, rubbing her neck and chin against him like a small animal, smearing his clean, pale face with bright red, making it a mess. Zhou Jing pretended to be angry, came over, and pinned her hands and feet down, not letting her move. She tilted her neck, pretending to be scared, but her body actively responded, her eyes and lips sparkling, waiting for him to kiss her. Red is the dangerous lip print, the desire, the red thread intertwined in the air. It is the color she imposed on him. They looked at each other for a few seconds. He did not kiss her rosy lips but bent down and caught her other incomplete leg. "This leg needs to be painted too," Zhou Jing said gently and considerately. He caressed her scars with his palm, little by little, very lightly. No matter how many times, such tenderness always made A-Ling's heart race. He was conversing with her body, repeatedly, tirelessly telling her that she was truly beautiful. He painted on the ugly scars, seriously making his strokes. She was pinned down by him, unable to see what he was painting, only seeing the young man lower his head, showing a very focused expression. She asked him, "What are you painting?" He said, "I want to write my name here, will you be angry?" He said it deliberately, wanting to make her angry, but unexpectedly, she showed a happy smile. "Okay," she said, "then I also want to write my name on you." He was stunned for a moment, the pen in his hand suddenly stopped, he turned around, and with a more complex, almost scrutinizing look, he stared at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?" A-Ling said, "Is the name finished? I want to check—" Zhou Jing seemed to make some kind of decision, saying word by word, "Close your eyes first." She obediently closed her eyes, hearing the rustling sounds outside. The cabinet door was opened and then closed. Something was gently taken out. Without Zhou Jing saying "open your eyes," she already knew what he was going to give her. Zhou Jing stood by the bed, nervously and excitedly handing the brand-new prosthetic limb to A-Ling. In a daze, she felt that what he was giving her was the heart of a kite, the broken wings of a bird. She did not feel happy but was overwhelmed by a great sense of loss. But he looked so happy, like the happiest person in the world. So she should feel happy. Happiness felt like a deadly toxin, spreading from the heart to the limbs, paralyzing the whole body. Happiness was a meteor, a handful of fireworks, falling into darkness at the most beautiful moment. Perhaps she really cried, otherwise, it was inexplicable why Zhou Jing suddenly became flustered, sitting back beside her. A-Ling looked into his eyes and softly said, "So, you don't need me anymore." His expression suddenly panicked. The hand that originally wanted to embrace her stiffly stopped in mid-air. The very expensive prosthetic limb, which had cost a lot of money to buy, also fell to the ground with a "thud." "No," Zhou Jing said, "that's not what I meant. I thought you would be happy." He explained further, "It's just that my play is about to start, and I hope you can sit in the front row to watch..." He became increasingly nervous, his words incoherent, not knowing where to place his hands, and unsure where to look. He didn't even pick up the prosthetic limb that had fallen to the ground, really clumsy. Just because of one expression from her, he was no longer the confident leading man who walked around the basement every day, but a huge teddy bear, afraid to meet her gaze. A Ling was amused by him. "I was joking with you," she said with a smile. "Thank you for the gift. I really like it." Zhou Jing looked at her deeply and said, "Alright, you must come." He would save the best seat for her. - The scene finally called for a cut here. Jin Jingyao wanted to come over and help Li Ling wipe away her tears, but she avoided him. She looked up, tears still glistening at the corners of her eyes, showing a smile identical to A Ling's: "Director, should we do it again?" Jin Jingyao asked her why. "I feel my final reaction might not be right," Li Ling explained. "Maybe A Ling would be very happy to receive the prosthetic limb, not so sad." "Your reaction was correct," he said. Li Ling looked at him with a doubtful expression: "Director, do you hear what you're saying?" How could he be so nonchalant? Jin Jingyao showed an innocent expression: "What's wrong?" "Forget it, nothing," she wiped her tears. The young director bent down and softly asked her, "Why are you unhappy?" Li Ling avoided his gaze and stubbornly said, "It's not that I'm unhappy, it's A Ling." "Alright, A Ling is unhappy, why?" Jin Jingyao said. His tone was even gentler, as if coaxing her. Therefore, Li Ling dared not look into his eyes even more. She remained silent, head lowered, and said, "Because she feels their relationship is built on her illness. Once she can stand up, this relationship will end." Jin Jingyao said, "No, he just wants to love her in a healthier way." He added, "They can soon establish a new relationship, isn't that great?" Li Ling shook her head. They were inherently sick, abnormal people. How could they establish a healthy, new relationship? It was Zhou Jing who chose to betray. He abandoned their basement and didn't want her anymore. He was moving towards a bigger stage, and maybe he would soon find a new girlfriend, Li Ling thought somewhat darkly. Jin Jingyao might have wanted to explain more, but before they could continue discussing the issue, Xiao Liu mysteriously called him away. Before leaving, Xiao Liu turned back and smiled at her with pursed lips. For some reason, Li Ling found his smile somewhat disgusting. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Everyone had left, and Li Ling was alone in the empty set, feeling a bit lost. Tomorrow she would wrap up her scenes. As the leading actress of this film, Li Ling was surprisingly the first to finish shooting. Even Luo Mingqing hadn't finished as early as she did. These past few days, they had been working overtime, staying up late every day, just to quickly finish shooting Zhou Jing and A Ling's scenes. Although the director didn't show anything in his words, and the atmosphere on set remained serious and focused, she had a vague intuition that he had suddenly become very anxious. Anxious to finish filming, anxious to leave the set. And then what? Anxious to get rid of her? It was as if a huge chasm had formed between them. Only she didn't want to wrap up, only she felt reluctant, only she was being sentimental. And he was so indifferent, strictly business, as if his mind wasn't even on the filming anymore. Did he no longer care about the movie? Or had he realized that no matter how many takes she did, she could never become the person in his memory, the person he had in mind when he wrote the script? They were so intimate in front of the camera, and that was it. Once "cut" was called, there was nothing. The more Li Ling thought about it, the angrier she became. She lay on the bed, curling herself up like a caterpillar, rolling back and forth. Then, she got up, bought a plane ticket, and decided to go abroad the day after the wrap to quickly forget everything. After looking at some travel guides for a while, Li Ling remembered that the serial she was following hadn't reached its finale yet, so she decided to ask 9787532754335 how it was going. Who knew they were so in sync? As soon as she opened her private messages, the other party mysteriously sent: "New discovery, the son's crush might also have feelings for him." Li Ling: ? Personal failure is certainly frightening, but other people's success is even more heart-wrenching. How did it turn into mutual crushes in just a few days? She urged him to quickly elaborate. 9787532754335 solemnly said, "She shared a love song with him." Li Ling was greatly disappointed: "That's it? What's the big deal about that?" 9787532754335 emphasized, "The lyrics are very suggestive, and she played it for him several times." Li Ling pulled out a song she had sent to the other party not long ago, proving that the last verse was also sung by a girl, and the lyrics were very sweet and straightforward: I like you I wanna be your girlfriend, baby Li Ling said, "Is there anything more suggestive than these lyrics?" 9787532754335: "..." From the other party's silence, she deduced that there wasn't. But he seemed genuinely hurt, not replying to her for a long time. Li Ling comforted him for a long time before he reluctantly sent a crying triangle bean emoji. At the same time, Jin Jingyao sat alone in the director's office, expressionlessly turning off the little love song that had played 115 times. He silently looked at his phone screen, then at the monitor screen. Could it really all be his illusion? But she clearly misread the lines. She was supposed to call "Zhou Jing," but she called the director. Her acting was becoming less refined. After the camera started rolling, she would look at him with eyes unlike A-Ling's, joke with him in a tone unlike A-Ling's. They had started a tacit, unscripted interaction. All of this made him feel that perhaps he wasn't entirely hopeless. At least she didn't dislike him, right? Not disliking was enough. Was there even a slight possibility that she saw him through Zhou Jing's eyes? Was there even a slight possibility that when she closed her eyes to kiss him, she had already forgotten who he was? During his student days, he thought the most beautiful and sweet thing in the world was to star in a love story with someone. They would kiss passionately across the screen, witnessed by all the audience. At that time, he was too young to understand that doing so would bring them very close, yet also very far apart. On set, they performed the most intimate acts, playing the world's most inseparable lovers in front of the camera. But between the two of them, there always seemed to be a vast chasm—a chasm between drama and reality, between actor and character, between spirit and **. He was not satisfied. He could not be satisfied. He no longer wanted the movie; he wanted the person. Many late nights, he woke up in a great sense of loss, astonished that he would even think about wanting to kill Zhou Jing. That way, he could have all of her love. He wanted to kill Zhou Jing. He wanted to kill this movie. He knew how unhealthy such thoughts were, but he couldn't control himself. The only solution was to wrap up the film. He wanted a new beginning with her. He wanted the right to continue without having to call "cut." Jin Jingyao expressionlessly put on his headphones, listening to the lyrics "I wanna be your girlfriend baby" for the 116th time, and ruthlessly cut out all the shots below the neck in the bathtub scene. Just then, he received a call from Xiao Liu. The other person said excitedly, "Bro, Li Ling's movie really still exists! I found it!""